


Somebody Has to FUCKING Care

by cinnamxn



Series: Somebody Has to FUCKING Care [1]
Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Dadvid, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Canon-typical swearing, Child Abandonment, Child Neglect, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Implied Child Abuse, Mentions of Suicide, S2E12 Parents Day, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2018-12-23 10:04:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11987556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamxn/pseuds/cinnamxn
Summary: He grew up thinking; feeling, that nobody cared. But still, he didn't expect it to go this far.





	1. The End of the Beginning

On the last Friday of Summer, ten kids wait by the mess hall, their bags packed and ready to go. Two camp counsellors oversee them, trying to wrangle the kids into an orderly fashion, overwhelmed by the sugary excitement of the final camp meal – a huge farewell cake, put together by the Quarter Master. Amid the excitement, one child does not eat. He spoons up the marble cake, and aims for the back of a fellow campers head – the cake flies and hits the target, splattering against the fishbowl Space Kid never removes.

“Max,” the female counsellor scolds, the only one to notice his antics amidst the chaos. “Can you _please_ stop being a shit for one moment? You're meant to be the one camper I can count on to not stress me out.”

Max laughs, and the next spoonful catches her on the cheek. She sighs, slicking the cream from her face with a displeased _"Great"_.

Everything dies down when the first car arrives. David insists that all the campers’ parents need to pick them up. Nobody complains about it, in fact, it gives the campers a proper goodbye and a comfortable transition between camp and home.

The first arrival is in a piece of junk that vaguely resembles a car – a redhead pops her face out the window and soon she opens the door. Mrs. Nurfington is straight out of prison, a beeping red light on her ankle and a smile on her face. She announces to her son that she’s free and ready to begin again. The mother and son duo each shed a tear, and embrace. She calls him Gaylord, nobody but Max, who gives a short, triumphant chuckle, makes a peep. Nurf gives a speech about what Camp Campbell has taught him – blah, blah – and then he drives away with his mum. Apparently both intend to make the most out of the lessons they’ve learned.

Harrison’s parents are next to show up in a brown sedan. They leave the car and seem rather uncomfortable taking their son home. Harrison endures, smiling. The whole tone shifts when he holds up a red blanket, places it on the floor, and slowly lifts it.

Underneath, a boy – looking similar to Harrison – appears. The family of four embraces. “What the fuck just happened?” Max asks Gwen, whose eyes reflect his surprise.

“I… I think that’s his brother?”

Whatever uncomfortable feelings were between the family before are gone henceforth. Harrison’s family drops to their knees in their gratitude for David, who is trying to make it appear as if whatever happened was planned all along. Idiot.

Nerris shares a hug with the brothers – the not-Harrison one looks shaken up, his clothes are tattered – and soon, Harrison disappears behind a car door and Max doubts he’ll ever see him again. It’s his final trick; disappearing completely. Ered’s dads show up next.

Two men, both who simply refer to themselves as Agent Miller, arrive in a sleek black car, and Ered approaches with a confident gate. Max recalls the agents, who threatened to shut down the camp a few weeks earlier. Now, they seem perfectly pleasant, and determined to have a chat with David before they leave.

After the disaster of parent’s day, David took over the Camp. He talked the Millers and the rest of the parents out of shutting him down with partial refunds and reassurances that Max was not lost – all their children were safe. A few contracts later, and David owned the entire fucking camp.

It seems to only increase his optimism and enthusiasm, but admittedly, with the FBI looking over his shoulder, David somehow has made the camp slightly less fraudulent.

Once the Miller’s leave, and Ered swung clear of a sobbing Nikki, David looks positively shaken. Max almost laughs, but seeing Nikki crying starts getting on his nerve. “Are you going to be this emotional when you have to go?” he asks.

The only response he receives is her wiping a glob of snot from her lip with the back of her hand – _gross_.

When Dolph’s father arrives, followed shortly after by Nerris’ parents, Nikki is prying Max’s and Neil’s contact details from them. Neil gives her everything without hesitation, because if he decides he doesn’t want to talk to her, it isn’t like she can find him. Max keeps it to himself, arguing that they’ll never talk again anyway so why would they even bother?

Dolph’s dad thanks David for taking care of his boy, and Dolph waves his farewell to them in a… highly inappropriate fashion, his hand and arm completely straight, held above his hair level. Honestly, Max is glad to see him go. Something about the way he acts and the things he says really rubs Max the wrong way.

The same goes for Nerris, whose obsession with dumb fantasy makes him want to rip his hair out. Every moment with her dad in the camp is spent with his hands bunched in his curls from pure frustration. Seriously, how could she be so delusional? It's somehow just as bad as David’s constant excitement. When the two end up together, talking enthusiastically about Nerris’ talents and superior knowledge of tabletop fantasies, Max wants to have a heart attack and spontaneously die.

Everything about her family is just so… positive, supportive, _loving_ … It makes Max sick in a way he can't understand, his stomach boiling and his face stony. No way can a family be that perfect. Max is sure that something fucked up has to be going on behind closed doors. Maybe an affair.

“Good riddance,” he says to Nerris when she completes a round of goodbyes.

She smiles, pissing him off further. “I shall take that as a compliment to my power!” she announces with a bow, “You have been a great foe, Max, Blue Orc of the Forest.”

“Uhh… Okay? Seriously though, get lost already.”

“Max, you don’t have to be so rude.” _Shut up, Nikki._

“Uh, yeah, seriously. That’s not very cool.” _Nobody asked you, Neil._

“Whatever.”

Nerris seems frazzled by the short conversation, but still passes on the remainder of her fare-thee-wells to the rest of the campers and the counsellors, with a smile.

That leaves Max with only one person with whose guts he can hate: Space Kid.

If Nerris is so passionate it’s delusional, Space Kid is so passionate it’s damn-near _pitiful_. So Max is all-the-more relieved when _Neil Fucking Armstrong Jr_ is on his way home to, hopefully, never cross paths with Max again.

Space Kid’s real parents show up this time instead of his uncle. Space Kid’s parents have little more than contempt for Gwen and David – if eyes could kill, then this would be a crime scene. Although… it already has been. More than once. In this Summer alone.

“See ya, Neil. See ya, Nikki. See ya, Max. See ya, Preston.”

“Did you have to say it for each of us?”

“See ya, Gwen. See ya, David.”

Space Kid never fails to drive Max up the wall. The ten-year-old buries his face in his hands, as if to suppress the agonising irritation. Just five minutes and Space Kid’s sudden interest in social interaction has given Max a headache.

Everyone pretty much says goodbye in unison, as if making up for the repetitive torture of Space Kid’s own goodbyes. Max is just glad most of them are already gone by the time Space Kid’s parents arrived. That left just the trio of terror and Preston Goodplay.

“What’s got your parents late?” Max asks, as Preston indulges himself in a slice of cake. For a lanky nerd, Preston has a huge stomach – he has single-handedly eaten four pieces already.

“Oh, it’s just my gram gram!” explains Preston, a little too loud.

Max frowns. “Oh, okay.” Up until that point, he just assumed that Preston’s gram came for the same reason Space Kid’s uncle came. He is about to ask what happened, but Preston is already explaining a melodramatic Romeo and Juliet-esque suicide.

“So, even though I have no memory of it, that is why I’m sure my parents were incredibly loving. They had… so much passion for each other,” he swoons.

Stumped, Max nods along, eyes wide. Neil, having overheard, looks dumbfounded. “Isn’t it kinda fucked up your dad killed himself instead of like... trying to raise you, or something?”

After a moment of thought, Preston dismisses the idea.

That probably makes Preston the only kid in Camp whose family situation doesn’t make Max feel like shit. Honestly, he thinks as much credit as Preston is giving the passionate love of his parents – seriously, that’s creepy as shit – from the sounds of it, Preston’s family is about as messed up as his own. The feeling is… humbling.

“So… what’s taking your gram so long?” Max presses.

“She’s probably forgotten about it,” Preston says. “She’s senile, you know? Hah hah! But that’s okay, because she’s got people taking care of her who will make sure she remembers. And she’ll drive here herself… which might also be the reason she’s late. She drives REALLY SLOW.” The sudden burst of volume has Max wincing, but he quickly rights himself to nod absently.

Another ten minutes pass before Preston’s Gram arrives, and Max almost feels bad for the guy when his little old granny gets out of her purple buggy. Partly because he spent his last twenty minutes worried the old bat would croak in the middle of nowhere, or that those tiny glasses likely do very little to help her see oncoming traffic. Either way, he was considering the possibility that Gram might never actually show. 

Only one thing annoys Max about Preston, but it is perhaps something he envies just as much: even though Preston’s situation looks like shit, he seems over-happy.

“May our fate bring us together once again!” Preston declares, thrusting his arm out at the audience of five; Max in the middle of them all, halfway between a set of waving counsellors and a set of waving campers.

“It was great to have you, Preston.” David wipes a tear from his eye. “I hope to see you again next year.”

Preston and his granny get in the car. Max thinks he'll never see them again.

As Preston’s gram gram drives away, another car speeds up the track, and Max cannot help but laugh as he sees not one, but two figures through the window.

Candy and Carl.

Nikki seems excited. Neil seems to be considering following in the footsteps of Preston’s father.

“Fuck this.”

Max laughs, and laughs, and laughs. David and Gwen share looks of mixed mortification and excitement between them. Things only get better when the two climb out of the car, and Carl introduces in an excited gesture that, “Excellent news, Neil, your new stepmom is pregnant!”

Max’s laugh evolves into a delighted howl. He falls on his back, legs swinging. It is the best thing to happen all day, and after actually feeling depressed for Preston… an incredible relief.

David squeals. “Looks like you two are getting not one, not three, but _two_ new siblings each.” He gives an off-handed wink at Max, who is too busy appreciating the absurdity of the situation to notice.

“Can we call it Rambo?”

“Can’t you just abort it and forget this ever happened?”

Two wildly different answers, from wildly different stepsiblings.

There are tears in Max’s eyes. Because this? It’s fucking outrageous.

As things calm down – a process that takes about twenty minutes – Max finally tells Nikki his email address. He allows her to entertain the idea that there is a possibility of seeing each other again or continuing their friendship, and initially shrugs off their goodbyes. When Nikki drags him into a hug, he is shocked, but not annoyed. When Nikki pulls Neil into the hug as well, for a few seconds he is even pleased with the awkward group hug.

Between the three, tears are shed. Max wipes them away before they let him go, and in a nasally voice that can only come from a blocked nose, he tells them to go home to their stupid blended family. Neil and Nikki do little to hide how upset they are that seeing Max every day is no longer an option. David tells their parents that the two were perfect angels – a complete lie – and finally, it is just Max and his ‘perfect nuclear family’.

Max sighs and looks longingly at the leftovers from their Summer’s Over party – a banner with ‘Goodbye Camp Campbell Campers’ in big red letters, a few slices of marble cake, several donuts, and a bottle of red cordial.

It is well past lunch time, so he decides against eating anymore – the food has probably already been attacked by all sorts of bugs anyway.

Gwen and David say nothing; they share a glance and then sit side by side. Gwen crosses her arms, a frown evident. David forces a smile; a pitiful, sad smile, but a smile nonetheless.

Max turns around; looks back at the road. The long, narrow, _empty_ road.

“They can’t just abandon me, can they?”

That he even considers it hurts David; makes his heart leap for the lonely camper.

“I mean, I know they don’t care about me, but they wouldn’t just…” his voice trails off. He waits. He waits even when the sun begins to set.

When David finally talks, he says, “I’ll order pizza,” and he says it as he approaches Max, puts a single hand in his hair for an affectionate ruffle, and watches the sun disappear beneath the horizon. “And… come inside when you’re ready, okay Max?”

Max shoves the hand away, heading even closer to the road. David sighs. He places his torch with Max’s bags and returns to Gwen. “We’ll be waiting, too.”


	2. The Last Camper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Max's parents refuse to pick him up, David and Gwen are forced to improvise.

Max leaps from his seat at an outdoor table when a set of lights peer at him through the darkness. Jade stones gleam in his eyes at the steady approach of the lights, which grow brighter as they steer closer. It's a car, and the shape resembles his parents'. He dares to hope.

The gems in his eyes shatter when it comes into view – not his parents. He scowls upon seeing a sign on top of the car, and soon after, he accepts a warm box filled with pizza – a roll of garlic bread balanced haphazardly on top.

“Where’s the money?” some blonde chick asks him, holding her hand out and popping her hip. He wonders briefly if she was every a Flower Scout, by the piercing glare she gives him.

“Uh… right,” Max mumbles, looking back at the cabin. He remembers David ordering pizza, but completely forgot about it while he was waiting. Instead, he has been thinking of his parents, of what shitty excuse they’ll have for arriving after dark, potentially leaving their son alone in the night. Subjecting him to all the horrors of the forest. _That was probably the point... so when they get here, they don't have to deal with me anymore_. Max shoves his hands into his pockets, and her cutthroat gaze narrows, expecting him to retrieve a wallet, probably. “Sorry, I don’t have money. David’s paying, he’s just at the cabin.” The delivery girl rolls her eyes, but follows Max when he leads her to the counsellor's cabin. She mutters something about the creepy atmosphere of the camp at night. Once friendly and almost homely, Max can understand how she may feel on edge; unsettled. Without the noise and clamour or the tents filled with snoring campers, the silence surrounds them like a sheet of ice. Only the warmth of the box in his hand offers comfort. His stomach begins to growl at the wafting smells of sweet, crispy pepperoni and strings of gooey cheese. Since all the other campers left, Max has eaten nothing – he is starving.

Coming to a stop at the door, Max picks up on hushed whispers shared between David and Gwen. He isn’t surprised to hear his name pop up. He stops for a moment, balancing the pizza and garlic bread in one hand, the other hovering over the door handle.

“You don’t have the money to throw away on something stupid and idealistic like that, David.”

“He needs a loving home, Gwen! I don’t want him to wind up stuck in the system. That's just not _fair_.”

“I know. But life isn't supposed to be fair. We can't just… it’s not something we can _fix_.”

After a moment’s pause and a deep breath, Max throws open the door. Both Gwen and David are sitting down on dusty red couches, hurling arguments at each other. David has his mouth open, ready to retort again, stick up for his beliefs again, when Max's entry stuns them into silence.

“Pizza’s here,” Max says in the most ordinary, bratty voice he can muster. Like nothing is wrong.

David and Gwen seem just as shocked at the pizza’s arrival as Max had been, even though it was their idea in the first place. David reaches for his wallet, but Gwen beats him to her feet. “I’ll cover it,” she promises, and David’s hand falls limp against his side. He looks about as dead inside as Max feels. Then he sighs, looking at Gwen's back with a smile of such relief that Max's inner corpse rolls in its grave, reminding him that he really is alone in his cold and bitter existence. 

The blonde pizza bitch leaves after getting paid, her hips swishing all the way back to the car. Gwen lays the pizza boxes on the desk while David offers to collect mess hall plates. The effort is pointless, Max reprimands him. What's the point of pizza boxes if not to double as their own plate? 

Laughter sounds for a moment, weary and uncomfortable. Quiet settles over them, all three staring blankly at their pizza. If the silence of the camp was a sheet of ice around his body, then the awkward tension is a toxic coil in his - and probably David and Gwen's - guts. It tears at the lining of his stomach, stirring nausea that leaves no room for his appetite, despite the pain of hunger. Max swallows, the sound of bile running down his throat too loud in the quiet room. David and Gwen are looking between each other and him. Are they unsure of how to break the silence, or are they waiting expectantly for him to eat?

Max picks a piece of pepperoni from one of the pizzas and forces himself to swallow it. In his mouth it is sweet; crispy. In his stomach it dissolves against the ball of pain. When nobody else makes a move, he grabs the whole piece, and takes a hearty bite. The crook of David's lip turns up, and soon, he's taking a piece, too. He takes a hearty bite, and strings of cheese protest against his reign of terror. Gwen reaches for one, too, and finishes it before either Max or David. Max watches as David scarfs down the crust in one impressive bite, and puts his own crust down in favour of another piece. 

He is two slices in when Gwen notices the leftover crusts with an offhanded comment that _'If you're not going to at least try the_ best part _,then at least make sure they don't go to waste'_. To his own surprise, Max is smiling when he places the crusts on Gwen's 'plate'.

* * *

“What are we going to do with him?” Gwen asks for the third time that night, eyeing Max. The camper is sleeping snugly in David's seat, a piece of pepperoni on his Camp Campbell shirt. She plucks it off and puts it in the empty box, cleaned sufficiently by the three of them.

David sits down on Gwen’s couch, feeling weary after the most tragic day of Camp Campbell so far. “I’ve tried to reach his parents,” he explains, sitting his iPhone down on the coffee table. Max’s papers are nearby – he and Gwen were looking at them earlier. The pages are barren, but there are a few numbers and addresses here and there. David has tried each one only to find them all fake. Most of them directed him to local businesses near Camp Campbell.

“No answer?" Gwen guesses, leaning against the couch to peer over his shoulders. Her frown droops lower when his head shakes from side to side.

"Fake numbers..." he mutters, glaring at the ceiling above them, leaning back as far as he can in the rugged chair. "I would have thought Mr Campbell would have verified them."

Gwen scoffs. "If that crook realised they were fake, he probably would have used it as an excuse to kidnap Max for slave labour. It's probably a good thing he gave so little shit about this place."

Those words twist David's heart violently, as if Gwen had taken it upon herself to stab him with a screwdriver. Mostly, her accuracy pains him. His eyes meet hers for a second as he chews on the inside of his cheek. “Max’s parents called us once, didn’t they?” 

Gwen nods. “Wanted to confirm what state we were in. Why?”

It takes a while, thanks to all the emergencies that have transpired over the summer, but David scrolls through his past phone calls, trying any number not listed under an obvious contact. Next year, he is definitely going to be mindful to add every campers parents' contacts. After accidentally calling the hospital, the local police, the Flower Scouts and Bon Bon in the middle of – well, some fun – along with various other confused parents, he finds it. 

Two rings; then they pick up. David is surprised, mostly due to how late it is. In the background he hears sounds – clangs of cutlery against dinnerware, light chatter.

“Who is this?”

The voice is sharp, clipped. Come to think of it, David remembers their first conversation long ago. Regrettably, he had thought nothing wrong of the demanding tone. He had not concerned himself with Max's attitude, either, assuming it was just a front he put up to be more like notable TV characters. Children and the media and all that. After all, what kind of kid who tried to kill his camp counsellor was not inspired at least in part by TV Comedies?

“Hi, my name’s David. I’m the owner of Camp Campbell! Oh, but you probably only know me as one of the counsellors... the owner thing is new!” David feels his positive tone is forced; nervousness to mask how aggravated he truly is. After all, if he goes off at her, won't she only treat Max worse? That's what Gwen had said when they first tried to reach her. As if to remind him, David feels Gwen's fingers brush his shoulder, but David looks to Max instead. No way would he mention it, but Max's cheeks are tear-streaked, and his breathing is agitated. As Max's fists curl in his sleep, looking for a teddy bear that isn't there, David's façade falters. He stutters, trying to muster the anger seething inside him. But his own fear muddles it. “It seems you’ve negle- forgotten to pick up your son. Me and my co-counselor have things handled for now, but you can still come and pick him up tomorrow morning?”

Following is a drawn-out pause, where David looks towards Gwen to regain his composure. She shrugs her shoulders, which does little to help him. “Right,” the woman finally says. “We can’t, I’m afraid.”

“Wh-… Why not?”

“We’re busy.” Cheers blast through the speakers. Reddening from neck to forehead, David’s grasp of the phone tightens. Gwen's fingers dig into his shoulder, and he hears her say his name in a harsh, angry whisper.

He ignores her. “Listen to me! This is grounds for child abandonment. I could have you fined for this; imprisoned even! Max is a lovely, talented boy and I will not stand to see him treated like this! Whatever party you’re at is not more important than your child!”

David can see her. He can see her at her party, surrounded by friends with a cigarette hanging from the corner of her mouth. He imagines the pink pout of her lip as she is blackmailed over the phone by a complete stranger, and he sees her green eyes narrow in annoyance. Finally, she tosses a mess of red hair over her shoulder and looks him in the eye as if he is ten all over again - _wait that's not right_. Reality hits him like a train as Max's mother gives a low hum; nearly a growl. “Do whatever you want."

David's mouth hangs open like a fish, and before he can reply she has hung up on him. David lets out a slow, painful breath of air.

He tries to call her four more times that night, but is sent immediately to voicemail.

* * *

When Max wakes up, he finds himself not in a tent, or his bed at home. He isn't even in the cabin, which he is sure is where he fell asleep. His forehead is pressed against cold glass, and he opens his eyes to a view of the forest flying past him. Of course, the woods don’t move. So that leaves only one explanation. Wrapped in a soft blanket and held down by a black strip, Max recognises that he is in the back of a car. He wriggles his hands free of the blanket, pushing the seat belt to the side so he has some room to get comfortable.

He stares ahead, at the driver, expecting to see dark, curly hair and a square, brown face. Instead, he is greeted pasty white with a cherry smacked on top – David. “Where are you taking me?” Max asks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He is still in his clothes from the day before – a Camp Camp shirt, topped with a blue hoodie and a pair of jeans. His shoes have been removed, placed on the floor of the car, and the yellow shirt contains a new, reddish stain from the pizza sauce.

“And where’s Gwen?”

David perks up at this, casting a hasty look over his shoulder - checking up on Max in an instant - before he retrains his focus onto the road. “Oh, good, you’re up. Gwen went home, but that’s not important. I… got in contact with your parents. We had a bit of trouble with your paperwork, but eventually, I got a hold of them and explained the situation, and…”

“They couldn’t be bothered to come pick me up so wanted you to take me home yourself?” Max guesses, feeling bitter to the core.

David looks forward again, gnawing at his lip. His fingers tap the steering wheel anxiously. “Actually… no. They told me, if it mattered so much to me, maybe I should take you home with me.”

Max’s eyes widen, his bottom lip falling. “…Oh.” He stares at the floor, at his ripped up socks and his shoeless ankles. “Of course.”

In a thousand years, Max never really expected _this_. Sure, he thought about it, but it was such a wild fear. It was irrational, wasn't it? His parents had to love him somewhere, deep down beneath their cold exteriors... He shivers.

“It’s… easier than getting mixed up in some kind of custody battle, or getting pushed into the foster system…” David attempts. “Max… I’m so sorry, but-“

Max rolls his eyes, acting as nonchalant as he can. “I get it David. My parents don’t fucking care, so now you feel you need to take care of me. You don’t. Just… drop me off at the police station of the next town. Somethin’ like that. This isn’t fucking _Matilda_.”

For a long time, David says nothing. Max begins to wonder whether he really will do what he asked. After all, if his parents could abandon him so easily, why would David have any trouble leaving Max in the care of strangers? He practically _is_ a stranger. Isn't he?

“Max… I’m not giving up on you.”

Max sighs. “David-“

“No. Max. Listen. I’m sorry for everything. I really am.” David’s eyes meet Max through the rearview mirror, and for a moment, he thinks David is about to cry, but then the counsellor looks back at the road. Long, and sprawling out ahead of them. Max thinks he could get lost just wandering that road; for a split second, he understands David’s attraction to nature. Though not like the weird, camp-boner manner that David experiences it.

The camp man sighs, his grip on the wheel tightens until his knuckles are white. “Your parents don’t care. They didn’t even give me emergency contacts they were… prepared for you to get hurt, and have nobody to support you. They were prepared to leave you in the hands of a total stranger. I’m… willing to bet they were willing to never see you again.”

Max sniffs.

A deep breath. A sign creeps closer to them from the horizon, coming into Max's view as he glares anywhere but at David – a diner three miles away. Breakfast. It passes by in a blur of white. “You don’t deserve to be treated like that, Max. You’re talented, smart, and you’re… a kid who… just… doesn’t know what it’s like to be cared for. You say you don’t care about anything, Max, but… you just don’t know how to, yet. And if you’re going to learn how to care, then – gosh darn – somebody has to care about you first.”

David eyes Max through the mirror. Max averts his gaze with more force, determined not to let David see through his mask. He stares behind the car, as the sign is left behind in the dust.

When he feels he can talk without his voice cracking, Max's eyes flick back to David momentarily, finding him in the rearview mirror. “Whatever. Besides, I’m sure after a few days social services will come take me away anyway. It’s not like you know anything about taking care of kids.”

“Max!” David groans. He sounds offended, though it's in an almost playful manner. “I’ve been taking care of you and the other campers for three months.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Max shrugs, not at all buying into David's false comradery. “I mean- remember what happened to Chucky?”

A grimace. Max can see David sweating. It’s a rare sight to see him so distressed. “And what about that thing Gwen said? Filling out paper for a dead camper… again? There’s no way any of Ered’s activities were child safe! It’s a wonder none of us lost a leg!”

David is biting down on his lip; cheeks flushed.

“Face it, David! You’re just as shitty as my parents.”

The car screeches to a halt. Max feels his stomach lurch, and the seatbelt bites into his neck. His whole body is thrust against the belt, and he whips back, hitting his head against the back of the seat. It hurts for a moment, but then the pain is gone. Max glares now, his eyes furious turquoise slits. David takes off his seatbelt and leans towards the back, pulling himself between the two front seats.

Never, has Max seen David like he is in that moment. His face is pink, his red eyebrows drawn together, and his eyes pricked by tears of frustration. His lips are pulled back into a grimace, and David waves a hand so close to Max that he instinctively shrinks back into the couch. 

It feels just like home. Then he sees David, flinch, too. David's eyes shift away, and he tightens his hands in his lap. Replaced by a grimace, whatever outburst David had prepared is stifled. Instead, all he says is, "I'm... trying, Max." 

For a long moment, Max has shut himself down; withdrawn. He puts his mind somewhere else; anywhere else. Then, David’s hand is on his shoulder. Then, it’s gone. “I’m sorry… Max.” A soft laugh. “I didn't mean to snap like that.”

David is sitting in the front seat again, staring out the window – at a diner, they’re near a diner – and he is hiding his face against the steering wheel. He leans into it like he has just run a marathon, or like he might cry. Knowing David it could be that he did both before Max woke up. “You… really know how to push my buttons, don’t you?” David chuckles. “Or maybe I really am that bad, but…” Max shifts on the chair in hopes of somehow becoming comfortable with the situation; leaning forward.

“I really do just want to do right by you. I don’t want to tear you away from your family if that’s not what you want, and I don’t want to… to drop you with social services and force you to be raised by strangers. And I don’t want to take you back to a family that doesn’t want you, either. They’ll probably just… get rid of you the next chance they get.” Max blinks. The meaning of those words is one Max is familiar with. In a sense, he has heard them a thousand times, but they only ever came from the deep recesses of his mind: fears that would never become true. Hearing them come from reality... From an adult... From someone as needlessly positive as David...

Max's entire body is frozen from the inside out. He feels impossibly cold. Numb.

“Just give me a chance, Max… Give me a chance to do right by you. That’s all I want from you.”

Everything about this situation _sucks_.

Max glares out the window. The diner has red brick walls and a neon sign above the roof, like somebody pulled it straight from a comic book. There is only one car parked near it, not including David’s beat up camp car, and the place feels surreal in his vintage fashion. As he sees the only customer push through the glass doors with a ring of a bell, Max's one thought is how the place somehow nails every definition of the word _gay_. He takes off his seatbelt and jumps out of the car, slamming the door shut.

At first frantic, David follows. He slows down when Max shoots a hardened look back and begins his demands. "I want waffles, you hear me?”

The tension fades from David in an instant. He smiles. “Okay, Max.”

“And I ain’t callin’ you dad or anything dumb like that.”

He laughs. “Okay, Max.”

“And… I’m sorry. For being such a shit.”

David catches up, and places a hand in Max’s hair, ruffling the dark curls. “You haven’t done anything wrong, kiddo. You were only saying what was on your mind."

“No ‘kiddo’, either.”

“Sure thing, _kiddo_.”

“If you call me that one more time I _swear to god_ I will stab you with a fork."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't feel like this story deserves as much love as it got! I'm so sorry the second chapter came so late because I lost the USB this story is on. Man, I felt terrible stalling for so long with all those kudos! Thank you so much to everyone who showed support, seriously I can't believe the reception was so good!


	3. How to be at Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David and Max settle into their new home.

Max never thought much about David's living situation. Somehow, it never even occurred to him that at the end of the summer, David would leave Camp Campbell. As if it is more realistic for David to live in the cabin all year around than it is for him to have a relatively normal life. Deep down, he realises that his line of thinking is even more absurd than David's over-happy attitude. Regardless, when Max steps out of the car and finds himself looking at a ratty apartment building with murky peach walls and scratches on the doors it feels... _wrong_.

David has been nothing but sunshine and rainbows since Max met him. Sure, the guy has had his off moments - Order of the Sparrow, his breakup with Bonquisha, the whole Jasper deal - but overall David seems to have a picturesque life. His obsession with nature has never once dulled, and his passion for the outdoors is so embedded in Max's perception of him that taking it away from him and replacing it with a ghetto... is somehow sad. Camp is miles away, but somehow that hasn't registered to Max until this moment: staring at a stainless steel number '3' situated above a cracked peep hole. 

"This is where you live?" Max asks, sceptical. Maybe it's all just a big joke.

David is chipper as ever as he brandishes a set of keys. One of them is for the dodgy camp car, but the one his fingers pick out amongst the rest is a bright green, with the number '3' engraved in the handle. There are three more keys, Max notices. Probably mostly keys for Camp Campbell, a dangling pine tree keychain, and a miniature compass. "I know it's not much," David says as he jams the green key into the lock. Max can't help dub it one of the biggest understatements of the century, "But it's home."

When the door swings open, Max finally gets a look inside. The first thing he notices is that the internal layout is as straightforward as it can get. There is only one door, and a room that takes up only a small corner of the apartment - a bathroom and toilet, he figures. Everything else is right in front of him. 

What one might consider the entertainment room is the first area you walk into: a dusty green couch facing a TV that is barely any better than the one they had at camp. It is less boxy, and Max is sure the picture quality will be better, but the screen is no more than 20" and the remote is clunky, sitting on a stool beside the couch, upturned with the batteries removed. David's first course of action upon entering is to open the navy blue curtains behind the TV, revealing a pink sky over the outer rails. David says something about the electricity before he walks outside, leaving Max alone. Max notes that David takes the keys with him. The man makes a point of pulling them from the door. He's wary, like Max may lock him out the moment he leaves.

He's not some kind of monster. He would have let David in as soon as it stopped being funny. Max steps inside, letting the door slide shut behind him, then locking it. He's honestly more concerned about the possibility of being mugged than he is with torturing David.

The dusty tiles do little to comfort him as he heads towards the kitchen. The fridge doesn't hum, and after opening it, he realises that it isn't even receiving any power. Not that it matters since there's nothing inside. No point leaving it on over the summer if nobody's home, he guesses. Max heads towards the cupboards instead, which are situated above the counters, and almost empty. All he finds is two cans - alphabet spaghetti and green beans. Poking his tongue at the green tin, he pulls down the spaghetti wordlessly.

The only other thing to note in the house is the 'bedroom'. David's seems to sleep on a murphy bed built into the left side of an actually decent wardrobe. The bed is up; a fold away table and three chairs out where it would have laid.

Max misses home. _Fuck_ , he misses home.

He misses his bedroom. Which, while plain, was still his own space. The walls were painted his favourite colour, and he had his own wardrobe filled with clothes that weren't just camp shirts, jeans and hoodies. Will his parents just throw it all out now that he's gone? Is it possible for David to take him home to pick everything up? If he goes back will his parents change their mind? 

Or will they not even let him in the house? 

Max goes through drawer after drawer. David seems focused on making the house hospitable again - turning on the power, dusting off his couch, disposing of the dead palm that he grumbled somebody was meant to care for. Eventually, Max finds a can opener, two spoons, and a set of four bowls (he uses the middle two, since the top one is layered with dust and the bottom one is chipped). He cracks open the spaghetti and the strong smell of tomato fills the room, bringing life to the stale air. He tries to get about half in each bowl, though it isn't much of a feed, and takes them both to the fold-up table. Once David has ensured the fridge, water tap and stove are all working, he joins Max at the table. 

Tense silence follows as they both watch each other over the table; sneaking peaks as if waiting for something from the other. Max pushes the letters around, his mind immediately picking out the 'b's and 'o's to push together in the middle of his bowl. David seems awkward, as if he wants to say something. Probably something sappy like how they're going to make a happy family. His silence is probably because he realises Max will immediately call out that optimistic bullshit.

Max has expertly spelled out 'boobs' in his bowl by the time David speaks up. "So.. clearly there are going to need to be some arrangements for this to work. Food, of course." Max is barely listening. He laments that there is no 'f' in his bowl, and instead switches through words that are less satisfying: luck, duck, suck. "We'll go shopping tomorrow for some stuff. What sort of stuff do you like to eat?"

It's not like David's been dealing with Max for the last few months. But then again, Max never had much of an appetite for Quartermaster's cooking. "Do you even cook?"

David offers a wry smile. "Well, I'm no masterchef, but I can follow a recipe."

As Max shrugs, David finally takes a spoonful of spaghetti. "Can I eat now?" Max asks. 

"Of course," he frowns, and Max takes a heaped spoonful, taking only 'uck' from his bowl. "You don't need permission to eat." 

Another shrug. 

"Well... uh... did your parents cook anything you liked?"

"Home recipes and shit. Not the sort of stuff you can find online."

David sighs reluctantly. "I suppose you're right there..."

Max takes another spoonful of spaghetti. "Just don't make me any of that bland, tasteless shit you gave us at camp and we'll be good." 

"I wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

Max sleeps on the bed. David grabs a thin blanket and curls up on the reclining couch.

Max takes the last of his sleeping medication, but tosses and turns despite. 

David wakes up with an aching neck that no amount of rub will fix.

* * *

They spend the whole of the next day shopping. 

Specifically, they arrive at a mall. Max in his Camp Campbell wear - pizza stains and all - and David in a fresh t-shirt and pair of jeans. Max notices that where hiking boots would usually be, he settles on a pair of somewhat rugged looking sandals. Max is certain that people stare at them as they cross paths; he must smell, having been out in the wilderness all summer, and not having a real bath since he left home. Add to that the pizza stains, the messy hair, and his unusual company and he's sure they make one hell of a spectacle.

At least nobody says anything.

David's shopping list is long enough to use as a jump rope. It mostly consists of food, and other perishable supplies like trash bags and soap. However, he also made considerations for Max that the boy tries desperately to ignore. He doesn't _want_ David buying a heap of shit for him. The last thing he needs is to be in debt to the camp man. But he also doesn't want to spend the next god-knows-how-long wearing the same clothes, unable to clean himself. 

The conversation, however, is inevitable.

The food has to come last on their list of endeavours. Except for breakfast, which they get first. There's a Wendy's at the mall they go to, which David says wasn't there before he left for camp. Max doesn't care. He gets a long black coffee, while David settles for a strawberry milkshake.

Max knows exactly what comes next - and it _certainly_ isn't because he peeked at the list while David showered that morning.

They enter a thrift store together, where Max is presented with an array of simple, cheap alternatives to the clothes sticking to his grimy skin. David stops right in front of a faded Wookie-print t-shirt, placing both hands on his hips proudly. Like he does when he's preparing himself to address the campers. "So," one of his hands shifts, digging into his pocket and retrieving the too-long list he compiled in the early hours of morning. "We need to get you some clothes Max, now I don't have a lot of money leftover from Camp, since, as you know, our funding was frozen, but we do need at least enough clothes to get by over the next few weeks or so until I'm earning an income again."

Max wonders briefly how he intends to do that. What does David honestly _do_ outside of Camp? 

"So, you'll need at least three pairs of pants, six shirts, and a week and a half's worth of socks and underwear. Don't forget a set of pyjamas, too."

He groans noisily, covering his eyes with his hands. The last thing Max ever wants is to be discussing anything about his underwear with David. Completely oblivious, David chatters on. He prances through the store, shopping cart in tow as he points out different shirts Max might like. He is right, of course. The camp man knows Max too well not to be. But like hell will Max admit it. Ignoring David's suggestions, Max wonders through the aisles independently, picking out the items that are cheapest. At the end, he manages a selection that is as cheap as it can get without being absolute shit. In the trolley go three pairs of shitty jeans, and six t-shirts that aren't too faded or too lame. There's a set of striped shorts and a stained singlet he's sure he can get away with wearing to bed. Since he isn't a tool like some people, Max definitely has enough underwear to last nearly two weeks, but in his goal to make everything as weird as possible David presses whether or not Max is _really sure_ he is set for everything regardless.

It doesn't take long before Max can't take his mothering anymore. "Fuck off already, David. I think I'm old enough to worry about my _own_ underwear without you breathing down my neck like a creep!"

" _Language_ , Max," but he doesn't ask again. 

As they buy the clothes, Max stands on his toes to see over the counter. He watches the price rise with each item scanned. Although he tried to keep things cheap, it piles up absurdly fast; all his efforts seeming a waste in comparison to the sheer amount of clothes he needs to get by. His stomach drops at the final number.

Max turns to David, who is smiling as he swipes his card. Though it probably looks like a calm exchange to anybody on the outside, Max has spent enough time with David by now to recognise the tightness of that willing smile. It's clearly more expensive than David would like, and Max feels momentarily guilty. How many times at Camp did he rip David off by doing dumb shit with his phone? Why should he suddenly feel bad about it? But he does. 

Because David really doesn't need to do any of this. He's doing it because he feels bad for Max.

The rest of their shopping follows a similar trend. Everything piles up, and it always looks like David is shocked and worried about the price. During groceries he second guesses himself a lot; replacing items that he reasons aren't _that_ important. It borders on frustrating, and the groceries cost more than twice as much as Max's new wardrobe did. 

Their time at the mall leaves Max feeling uncomfortable and burdensome. He speaks little to David, and only makes comments when prompted. At several times, he considers abandoning the Camp man entirely, but after all the effort David has gone through to accommodate him, even that feels wrong. Max's mind swirls with dread and guilt. The questions and thoughts war as he stuffs his hands into his pockets and tries to be as small as possible. 

As the trip comes to an end, he helps David carry the groceries in.

"Wow, that was a lot of work!" he nods. "Good thing I had you to help me, Max." Right. "Now we just need to get it all in the pantry." Already on it. "Hopefully we won't need to go shopping again til next week." Hopefully. "Max? Are you listening to me?"

God, he's tired. 

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Let's just get this over with already."

David's smile is tight again. Fake. He nods, "Alright. Well, so long as you're helping me this should take no time at all." 

Max grabs the milk and puts it in the fridge, and although he will not say it he knows that everything has changed. It sinks in at that moment that he is helping David do the groceries. Their groceries. To feed the two of them. Because they are living together now and does that make David like his dad? Because the thought that he is kinda-sorta related to the camp man is too weird, and despite everything he misses _his_ dad. His dad probably doesn't miss him, so why should he care? But he does.

He must have been standing there with the milk in his hand for too long because David taps his shoulder, and the fake smile is gone. "Max?" 

Startled, he drops the milk.

It lands at his feet, smashing against the bottom of the fridge. "Shit!" Max swears, scooping the bottle off the floor. He lifts it towards the light, carefully inspecting the plastic. For a moment, he panics, but the worst of the damage is an oblong dent along the base. Annoyed, he turns to David, "Don't sneak up on me like that!" 

David holds his hands in front of him defensively. "You don't need to help me, Max. You can lay down. Rest, play a game on my phone, watch some TV... I can handle all this by myself."

No way. "It's fine." He shoves the milk in the fridge, and this time makes sure it is sitting safely on the shelf. "Like you said, it's faster this way." Having something to do might help distract him from the absurdity of this entire situation.

* * *

Max eats dinner. He helps with the washing up. He has a long, hot shower and tries on some of his new clothes. He sits down to watch late night TV with David. He refuses to talk about how he feels. Then he cries himself to sleep. 

* * *

They have only a few days before Max will need to start school.

After a meagre cereal breakfast, David disappeared for just short of half an hour, leaving Max to lock the doors and hope the building wouldn't burst into flames around him. Given everything that happened at camp, it isn't that unreasonable a fear. David came back with mail and other various sheets, and immediately started pulling additional files out of a folder Max hadn't noticed, hidden between the mattress and the bedframe. It didn't take long before Max realised that the excess of paperwork is part of a scheme to get him into a public school.

"Enrolling you at school is... a lot harder than I thought it'd be," David admits, after approximately an hour of sitting there reading and filling forms. Max peers over the pink iPhone case for a moment at the camp counsellor. He is huddled over a hundred pages laid across their miniature dining room table. His sleeves are rolled up, and he keeps chewing anxiously on the nub of his pen. 

There's a shitload of different labels and fine prints that David is dealing with. Some of them are finance related - a bank statement with only three figures, bills with four, a resume that cites more charity experience than work experience, and the sheet David is working on at that moment is a third party custody whatever.

David has been tenacious in his attempts to cheer Max up, but it's quiet moments like this that Max feels most comfortable with the counsellor. He still feels like a horrible waste of space, and hates how much strain he is putting on David's life, but David isn't trying to lie to him or make everything out like it will all be fine and dandy. They had moments like this at camp; though Max still doesn't know how to describe them. They aren't exactly warm, because a cold still permeates every part of Max's life. When his parents left him for the Summer, they made sure he took all the cold, uncaring atmosphere with him, buried so deep it couldn't be reached by the warmest jumper or most satisfying cup of coffee.

This definitely isn't warm. But Max doesn't feel cold, either. It's somewhere in the middle. 

"It's not like there's anything useful to learn from school," Max says, his eyes fixed to the small screen beneath his fingers. "You think I'm gonna get a job by speaking French and listing off the US presidents?" 

David smiles, and it's genuine. Maybe he's glad for a break from paperwork. Fair, given that whatever David is doing looks like Satan had a crack at assigning maths homework. "There's lots of useful things you can learn at school. I mean... sure, not all of it's great, but that's because everyone's going to be doing different things someday, and maybe the stuff you don't find useful, other people will. All you've got to do is put your all into the things you _do_ want to learn. In _and_ out of school!"

The moment is gone. Max rolls his eyes. "Thanks for the pep talk, David."

"You're welcome!"

_Seriously?_

"What school are you sending me to?"

Using the pen, David taps one of the pages in his array of bullshit. Max shoves some of the other papers away from it, pulling the one David pointed out closer until he can read it. Hidden beneath all the black and white was a pamphlet. "Is this where you went this morning?" Max asks. "To check out the school." 

Shaking his head. "I just collected the pamphlets. I didn't want to leave you here alone for long." 

A car alarm blares in the distance. The game Max was playing dims, as the screen prepares to lock. Max sighs. "So why this one?"

"They've got the widest range of extra curricular out of the schools in this zone. And..." 

Max cocks an eyebrow. "And?"

The faintest of grins spreads across David's face as he signs the final box on that custody form. 

"What else, David?"

"Well, they're looking for staff."

The words drop like a hammer. Dazed, Max leans over the table, glaring at David for any signs that he may be- "Are you shitting me?" David is only smiling wider now, and he makes a pile out of the custody declaration, the enrolment forms and, finally, his resume. "No way!" Max shouts, not in excitement, though. Perhaps it's shock that, all this time, David _chooses_ to work with snotty, shitty kids all year around. Otherwise, could it be that he somehow thinks it's a _good_ idea to work at the same school as Max. Or perhaps it's that anybody other than crooked Campbell would trust this freak with kids; or the prospect that the school may be just as sketchy as the camp he barely escaped and that's why they would accept David. 

"Fuck no! I don't want you as a teacher!" 

Laughing, David shakes his head. "I get it, Max, you want your space. You'll have it." 

Max frowns, still glaring hard at the camp man. Max isn't one to beg but please _, please let him be joking._ David gives off no such sign. 

"I'll be in the Pre-K class, Max." David scoffs. "I doubt we'll be lucky enough to see each other often. And don't worry, if we do, I promise not to embarrass you in front of your friends."

How optimistic of David to assume Max will make any friends there. "Lucky... right. Well, I guess it sucks that I'm going to be spending all my lunches on the opposite side of the school from you."

If David picks up the sarcasm, he doesn't let on. "Now that that's all sorted, do you want to come with me to drop it off?"

Max listens to the approach of police sirens as the car alarm finally dies down and he glances at the single phone they share between them. He sighs. "I guess."

David is overjoyed. Max touches the home button, immediately unlocking it. If David has ever cared that Max's thumbprint is saved, he says nothing. Maybe the idiot overlooked it entirely. Max returns to his game, and silence pursues them as soon as they shut themselves in the car. 

* * *

"Do you have a charger in here?" Max asks, already searching the glove box. 

David shakes his head. "I've never had need for one. We can get one next time we go shopping though."

Max groans in frustration, slamming the lid up and dropping the phone haphazardly in his lap. Useless, now. 

Silence.

Max opts to look out the window. Sitting in the front seat is new and strange, but David assured him there's nothing stopping him without the other campers to banter with him for the privilege. He can see the road sprawling before him, and he feels oddly larger when looking down at it like that. Everything just seems so much smaller somehow. 

"We should talk." 

Max's head whips to the side, looking at David, whose focus on the road is a little too keen, like he's trying to overcompensate. "About this. Your parents. How you feel. I don't want you bottling it up, Max." 

He has nothing to say to that. 

The radio is turned on, but the volume is all the way down. Max reaches for the dial. "Max. Please." David gives him a cursory glance, then his eyes return to the road. 

Eyes narrowed, Max grabs the dial and turns it sharply. The volume booms, but not with music. Instead, Max catches a snippet of the word 'agriculture'. He twists it back, and the sound dulls, though a deep voice continues to describe farming conditions. 

Either way, it's better than listening to David, who growls in frustration himself. 

"Fine," he relents as Max pulls his hood over his head and leans against the window. "But you can't ignore it forever, Max, you need to talk."

* * *

"David, are you awake?"

Max stands above the couch, where the camp man is sitting like a discarded doll. It cannot be comfortable at all, but he makes no sound or movement. Max sighs, and stares out the window where the city lights bleed into the sky. David complained about it earlier that night; light pollution, he said. Max had never heard the term before, but now that he sees it, he misses the starry skies at camp. Something about them felt free. He felt less trapped and helpless and he had... hope, maybe? He isn't sure what he hoped would happen. He isn't sure there is a good ending. His parents wouldn't magically start loving him just because some dumb camp man decided he wasn't entirely useless. 

"I want to blame you. You and that stupid fucking camp. If it weren't for you, maybe I... maybe it wouldn't have hurt as much." Max drops to the floor by the window, staring out at that too-bright night. It blurs into a muddy sort of blue-brown. "If you just didn't give a shit, maybe I wouldn't have cared as much when... _they_ didn't." He spits out the pronoun like it might feel better to play this little game of pronouns. Of not acknowledging who is really at fault here. "I'm a pretty shitty person for blaming you for it, right?" 

Max doesn't stop there. In rationalising who is really to blame, he finds himself talking about his high hopes and the low expectations he should have been focused on instead. He talks about how cold it is, everywhere, and how the warmest he has ever been was when they went to that dumb pizza place on dumb parent's day and he wonders why David didn't give up when he literally tried to kill the camp man in those first weeks. Why should David do this? Care so much. Why can't Max care? Why couldn't his parents? How does David do it? His mind reels and each insecurity voiced is a crack in his skin, leaving him colder and more broken than ever, but he can't stop once he's started. He doesn't know when he stops, but at some point, he must have cried himself to sleep right there on the floor.

* * *

When he wakes that morning, Max is too tired to wonder how he got tucked back into bed. Though everything is still shit and the pizza David buys for lunch doesn't quite warm that coldness in his soul, he feels a little bit lighter, enough to mutter a few words of thanks to David, at least. 

"You're the only person out there who's stupid enough to maybe make this work. For... whatever it's worth... I'm glad you gave a shit."

Somebody has to fucking care. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of the last part of this story, but I do intend to write drabbles to further explore their life together. The next thing I post will focus on Max's school life. Anyways, sorry this was so spread apart with the updates. I can't believe how much attention it got??? Thank you, everyone, who stuck around patiently for the end.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for a week and a half now, (had to completely rewrite it when I realised the style was rather stale) and I'm glad to finally have it up. Anyways, this is intended as a series. It was originally going to be one huge one-shot, followed by chronologically ordered domestic Dadvid drabbles that use this first story as a foundation for Max's and David's situation. I decided to chop the one, big one-shot into several chapters. I'm not entirely sure how many at this point, but it should be 2-4.


End file.
